


Devotion

by SeventhStrife



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: :), Cat/Human Hybrids, Don't copy to another site, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Inspired by Art, Jake Muller Is A Pervert, Multiple Sex Positions, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Sherry "But The Mission" Birkin, Vaginal Sex, also beastie is an enabler, as a treat, fic with art, no beta we go to turbo hell like men, they're horny your honor, writing something indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:55:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28412016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeventhStrife/pseuds/SeventhStrife
Summary: Is it too much to ask that Sherry get some actual work done?Yes,apparently, is Jake's answer.
Relationships: Sherry Birkin/Jake Muller
Comments: 7
Kudos: 16





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandpiperBand](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandpiperBand/gifts).



> All I have to say, Beastie, is: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) You made the art, now you have to deal with the consequences. lolol

Sherry's learned to keep work nearby, even in bed. Jake's called her a workaholic more than once, but that isn't what this is. If anything, it's the only reason they still have _jobs._

After all, _someone_ has to check in with their superiors during their missions, _someone_ has to send them triple-encrypted files of whatever intel they might find, _someone_ has to write their mission reports. And since Jake finds himself physically incapable of sitting still long enough to do so, that responsibility falls squarely on Sherry's shoulders. 

Not that Jake seems to appreciate it since he's _always_ interrupting her. And it's only on the rare occasion that it's for a valid reason. He's never more like the animal he pretends not to be until the moment Sherry's attention is focused somewhere that isn't him. That's when Jake gets surly. Pouty. _Completely_ incorrigible. Jake defends that he's just affectionate. Sherry calls him a slut.

But she doesn't have to worry about that particular problem just yet. Sherry comes awake with a stifled yawn and blinks into the darkness of their bedroom as she tries to _stay_ awake. After a moment, she twists to look over her shoulder and can't help but smile.

Jake gets prickly when she points out how cute he looks when he's sleeping, but it remains an unobjectionable fact. Right now, he's sprawled like a child, face tucked into his arm while the other one hung limply off the side of the bed. The sheet is partially twisted around one of his legs, just enough of it over his waist to preserve what little modesty he has, and his tail gives a lazy, idle little wave before settling back on the mattress where it drapes over his thigh. His lips are parted ever so slightly and his chest rises with slow, even breaths. 

Sherry knows it's disgustingly mushy, but she can't help but spend a few moments just looking at him, fond and happy and still ridiculously in love, no matter the fact that they've been together for nearly a year now. Everything about him is softer in repose, even his scars, and a rush of tenderness comes over her with enough force she has to breathe through it so she doesn't do something stupid, like wake him up from the force of a sudden, smothering hug.

Careful not to disturb the bed too much, she turns to face him, can't resist the temptation to reach out and stroke one silk-soft ear. The red fur is smooth beneath her fingertips and her smile widens when Jake's ear twitches whip-fast, almost as if in subconscious reprimand. 

_Okay, enough of that._ After the post-mission 'celebration' Jake had insisted on, (just thinking about it made her blush; Jake's voice, low and dark with intent, _Time to unwind, Super Girl_ _—)_ he was out cold. Would be for at least a _few_ more hours, she knows from experience. Between the mission, the long flight back, and their... _rigorous..._ activities when they'd finally gotten home, Jake wouldn't surrender the opportunity to rest until he'd gotten his fill.

Which is perfect, because Sherry wants to get a head start on a bit of research before their next assignment.

Regretfully, Sherry rolls back over and stretches out her hand, fumbling for a few seconds in the dark before she finds the bedside cabinet and the lamp. It's a small thing, one she got for this express purpose, but while the wash of light is only a small, warm glow, she still glances back at Jake.

As she expected, he's completely down for the count, hasn't so much as _twitched_ in his sleep. 

_Perfect._ Opening the table's drawer as slowly and silently as possible, Sherry fishes out a thick hardcover book from its depths and settles in to read.

The mission itself is some time away _—_ two months, to be exact _—_ but they'll be there for at least a few weeks, undercover as they try to root through another country's black market to find evidence of B.O.W. manufacturing. As much as Sherry hates to admit it, for all that outbreaks are terrible, they're also _incredibly_ systematic. Every single time a new viral outbreak has occurred and the perpetrators dealt with, the trickle-down effect ensured it was never completely gone. There was always someone in the market for something they shouldn't have, a little incentive or a bargaining chip, and lesser strains of the virus tend to end up on the black market, sold to struggling nations or guerrilla groups. And since Lanshiang, inferior, but no less potent samples of the C-virus have been making their rounds.

It's only been rural areas so far, but the fact that it's persisting is the real problem, especially when the areas in question are too poor to afford a cure. 

It takes time to build a cover, and HQ's still getting their travel visas and paperwork in order. An alibi for why two strangers are going to be in such a secular community has to be air-tight, and Sherry refuses to show up unprepared. That's why she has this book, one she'd hunted for and special ordered, that featured the folklore of the nation they were visiting. Maybe it wouldn't be exactly relevant to the mission, but you could learn a lot about a society based on their beliefs, even their fairy tales. It's helped her in the past, and there's no harm in learning from another culture.

Fortunately, the stories are especially engaging, and the thick, novel-length text grows less and less intimidating as she flies through the pages, losing herself in epic battles and mythos of how the sun was pierced by a god and the spill of its light created the stars. 

She's halfway through when she faintly registers movement; Jake, finally stirring. She does her best to ignore him, seized by the unshakeable determination to finish a good book, no matter what may be happening outside of it. 

She gets through a few more sentences before Jake shifts behind her, brushes the back of his fingers against her back.

"Hey," he mutters, voice still rough with sleep. 

"Hey," Sherry calls back, soft and absent. She turns the page. "Sleep okay?"

"Yeah." His hand falls away and he groans; stretching, probably. "What are you doing?"

"Reading."

"Why?"

"Mission prep."

Jake huffs, amused. "Figures."

He says something else, but Sherry's not really listening, sucked back into the story. "Mm-hm," she hums.

A moment later, Jake hooks his chin over her shoulder. "You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"Of course I am, Jake," she says sincerely. She runs the pad of her finger below the line she's on. "In this, they cite a goddess as the creator of man." She flips back a few pages so Jake can see the depiction of her in the text, rivulets of dark blood flowing from her wrists. She taps on where the crimson flow sinks to the bottom of the image and the line of men spring up to greet the dawn of creation. "Usually, in these kinds of myths, mankind was created to serve, but she created humans out of love. She wanted others to enjoy the splendor of the earth." Sherry smiles, looking at the rough recreation of the goddess, of her great wings and flowing robes. "Imagine growing up with a religion based on love like that. Creation for the sake of it. Makes me wonder what the people are like..." Her voice dips into a low, thoughtful murmur. "Intel says the country is largely matriarchial, but how far has that impacted them, socially? Is it largely symbolic? Or more intrinsic?"

"Uh-oh," Jake says. He presses his smile to the bare skin of her shoulder. "You nerdin' out on me again?"

"It's interesting!" Sherry defends. 

"That was the wrong thing to say," Jake mutters. His palm skims over her waist and slides over her hip. "When'd you get dressed?"

"Huh?" Sherry's already reading again. "Oh, uh, right after you passed out. You were hogging all the covers again and I got a little cold."

"Hm." Jake fingers the edge of her camisole. "That's a shame. Covering this up, it's like throwing a drape over a work of art."

"Mm-hm."

"Sherry."

"Mm?"

"You're not listening to me."

"Mm-hm."

It falls quiet again, and Sherry sinks completely into her book, drawn into the conflict she's found herself in the middle of it. The goddess was revered, to be sure, but to read about her jealous father, casting her away for the cardinal sin of being exactly as he made her? It's beyond cruel, and while she knows religious texts always end in tragedy, she can't help but hope the goddess is saved in the end. 

At her back, Jake is a familiar wall of heat. With her ignoring him, she's sure he'll slip back to sleep, content to nap as he always is on the far-too-fleeting occasions they get to relax at home. She faintly registers his touches, the stroke of his hand across the bare skin of her thighs, the doting, light kisses at her shoulder, but they only make her feel more comfortable, creating a soothing atmosphere for her to relax into as she reads. She unconsciously sinks back against Jake as her hungry eyes devour line after line of text, and the contentment she feels in that moment—it's a peaceful sort of bliss she's spent years fighting to protect, yet never thought she'd get to enjoy herself.

Then that peace is _obliterated_ when Jake's arms come around her, braced and locked straight on the bed so that he looms behind her. His claws are out, and if that isn't warning enough, she can feel the press of his erection at her lower back. 

His voice, deep and rumbling and _dripping_ with stark, unashamed lust breathes hot right into her ear, _"Sherry."_

Sherry freezes, abruptly yanked back to reality. Her tail moves, involuntary, in a brief, erratic wave as she tries her hardest to contain her panic. A flush scorches across her face.

_...Shit._

When will she ever learn? She _knows_ what it does to Jake when she ignores him, _knows_ how intolerable he finds it. And he tends to default to his libido to gain her attention again, as if her distraction were a personal affront and challenge against his competence as a lover. 

When Jake's like this, he doesn't listen to reason. Trying to convince him that she _really_ needs to focus, that they can do this _later,_ will fall on deaf ears. Ridiculously, she feels the urge to run, but she knows from experience that will only excite him.

It's not even as if she's truly _opposed,_ it's just—if she lets Jake distract her like this all the time, she'll never get _anything_ done.And she's _so close_ to finishing...

"Jake..." she starts, in a tone that is completely neutral and reasonable. "I'm almost done—"

"You can take a break," Jake assures her. His hand slips beneath her shirt, baring more of her skin as he reaches higher. "All work and no play, right?"

Keeping her place with her thumb, Sherry quickly grabs Jake's wrist in a vain attempt to stop this before it starts. 

"It's more like _all_ play and no work, with _you."_

Jake chuckles, nudges Sherry's head to the side so he can dot kisses up the length of her neck; she bites her lip against the sensation of his hot breath, the warm, lingering press of his kisses and the just-shy-of-pain scrape of his fangs.

"Don't see anything wrong with that."

"O-of course you don't," Sherry says on the tail-end of an exasperated sigh—a sound that morphs into a quiet gasp when Jake bites her again, harsh enough it's a wonder he doesn't break the skin. It's...pretty compelling.

The hand Sherry has tugs out of her grip, distracts her by sliding back down and _away_ , and she's so focused on it that she misses the shift of his _other_ hand until he's cupped her breast over the pathetically thin fabric of her camisole. She sucks in a sharp breath at the touch, how he immediately finds her nipple and rolls it with experienced ease, and while she's shuddering from the sensation, his other hand slides between her thigh, lifts it to creates space for his dick, hot and thick and hard as a rock as he slides it against her with only the scarce covering of her underwear—and the condom he'd slipped on who _knew_ when—to keep them apart.

"Play with me, Sherry," he growls lowly, laving at his bite.

It feels defeatist at this point, but— _dammit,_ he can't keep doing this!

Valiantly, she tries one last time to stop Jake. She reaches over her shoulder, places her hand on his head, trying to coax him to listen to her.

"Jake, come on, I need to focus—" 

He must have anticipated this last burst of resistance, because before she can finish protesting, he lowers her thigh back down and _grabs her tail,_ strokes it in one tight, firm pass from base to tip.

 _"Ahh!"_ White-hot pleasure surges through her and she can feel the tremble of Jake's chest at her back, _laughing_ at her.

"N-no _fair,_ Jake!" She gasps, eyes still closed as sparks dance behind her eyes, surge into a hot, pulsing insistence between her legs. God, she's never known a moment's peace since Jake discovered _that_ particular weak spot... "Tails are off limits! We talked about this!" It's a constant source of embarrassment for her, how she turns to putty at the slightest caress when she's touched there.

"I never agreed to anything," Jake defends. "Besides, you love it." He releases her tail but doesn't give her a chance to recover. His fingers slip between her legs, rubbed insistently at her through her underwear. "You're already wet and I barely touched it."

He pinches her nipple again, pulls on it in a tug that makes her breath catch.

"J-Jake—" She knows she's lost, caught up in the throbbing ache of her pussy, the electric sparks that dance up her spine from Jake's attention on her chest and neck. Her voice is completely stripped of the calm, measured tone of before, now thready and weak and needy in a way she only gets with him.

"Yeah, you're done with this," he growls behind her, and the hand at her breast moves, slides up her arm so he can push the book out of her hold and off the bed, forgotten somewhere in the darkness.

Sherry _wants_ to be annoyed, but Jake's too experienced with her body for her to feel anything but agreement. The way she feels right now, the urge to read has completely deserted her.

Still, as she twists to lay on her back and Jake instantly swoops over her, she reprimands, breathy and moaning, "You're impossible."

Jake kisses her, slow and deep and with these filthy, shameless strokes of his tongue. No matter how many times they've had sex before, she still can't help the bright blush that overtakes her when Jake gets like this, bold and brazen and downright _lewd._

"I'll make it up to you," he promises, dark intent and desire radiating from every syllable. His smug words should annoy her, but Jake always keeps his promises, and she's looking forward to him keeping this one.

God, he's turned her into such a pervert...

His arms wrap around her waist and then he rolls them, positions himself on his back so that Sherry lays on top of him. 

Sherry gasps, unsettled by the sudden change in position. Her head falls beside his on the pillow and she tries to look at him, "Ja—"

Jake pulls his legs up, grasps Sherry's knees and pulls her legs apart so that they fall over either side of his. With one hand, he reaches down the length of their bodies to tug her underwear aside and with his other, he parts her lower lips, traces the slick seam once, twice, before he slowly sinks a finger inside her.

Sherry's hands fly to her face, fingers half-curled against her mouth in an attempt to cage the embarrassing moans falling from it, loud and obscene.

"Oh— _Nn!—Jake!"_

He hooks his finger inside, slides in and out a few times before he slips in a second. The stretch makes her shudder, but the way he lingers inside her, the curling, merciless way he massages at her walls, slick and quivering around his fingers, feels so good it's all she can manage to remember to _breathe._

"Fuck." Jake's free hand traces up the length of her body, pushes her thin shirt up and over her chest so he can cup the swell of her breast and lavish attention on her neglected nipple. His words are hot pants of breath in her ear, unsteady and fervent. "I'm gonna fuckin' _wreck_ you."

 _Oh, god, PLEASE._ She's so fucking turned on, it _hurts._

With a few coaxing words, a little urging from the hand not currently trying to finger her hard enough she forgets the English language _completely,_ Jake gets her hands away from her face, gets her to push her hands behind his neck to better hold onto him. The move makes her chest jut out and she has to close her eyes, unable to take the sight of herself on display like this, skin flushed, nipples hard, legs thrown open wide and held apart by Jake's as he fingers her faster and faster. Her tail falls to the side, brushes against Jake's before it moves with a mind of its own to curl around his in a warm coil that makes her shiver.

Jake chuckles in her ear, murmurs, "Cute," even as she flushes impossibly harder. She can't even blame him this time—rubbing tails like that? How needy can she get...

He stiffens his fingers, stops curling them inside her so he can plunge them in and out, fast and ruthless, just to hear her cry out. He rocks his erection against her, groaning low in her ear.

"J-Jake— _please—"_ Sherry feels like she's losing her _mind._

"Not enough, huh?" His tongue traces the delicate edge of her ear. "You're so _greedy,_ Sherry," Jake reprimands lightly.

Her breath hitches; her face _burns_. "N-no, that's not—I wasn't—"

"Don't worry," Jake assures her. His fingers finally pull out and a moment later, the blunt head of his dick pokes at her freshly stretched hole, smearing the wetness there, already eager to get inside her. "I'll give you what you want."

That enticing sensation of him _so close_ to slipping inside—she loses any grasp on words. She rolls her hips in an instinctive grind and they _both_ moan when she shifts enough that his tip just _barely_ dips into her.

 _"F-fuck,"_ the smug teasing is completely gone from Jake's voice; he sounds as wrecked as her. 

She feels awash in sensation: the deep, aching throb of her pussy fills her every thought, her mind tunneling on Jake, _right there,_ between her legs, _torturing_ her with every second he's not fucking her—

Past embarrassment, Sherry pleads, _"Ohh, yes,_ Jake, _please—"_

Jake mouth on her neck, the slide of his tongue before he _sinks_ his teeth into her in a vicious, jealous bite of possession, the pain sparking across her body like a heady, electric shock across every inch of her body as he wraps both his big hands, fingers splayed wide, on her thighs so he can grasp tight and he _snaps_ into her in a demanding thrust that _forces_ her walls to part for him as he plunges inside her as deep as he can reach—

Sherry goes _blind,_ awash in the barrage of sensations from head to toe. Her moans crest into a long, drawn-out mantra of desperate pleasure and the incandescent euphoria of finally getting _exactly_ what she's waited for.

It's only been a few hours since they'd last had sex, and Sherry's grateful for it; Jake doesn't have to waste any time easing her into it. He immediately sets a harsh pace, fucking into Sherry with a relentlessness that feels like he's _punishing_ her.

Well, Sherry _had_ been ignoring him; maybe he is.

With one harsh snap of the hips, Jake seizes her around the waist, rolls them again so he's on top, hands braced on either side of her, and then he plunges _right_ back into her, before she can even catch her breath.

The position is no less embarrassing, but it has the benefit of allowing Sherry to bury her face in the pillow, of fisting the sheets so she has _something_ to hold onto as Jake rides her.

With her hips in Jake's grasp, she's forced into an arch, tail waving in the air as he grinds her down on his lap. When he tugs her panties down a little to rub at the base of her tail with a thumb, she trembles, pleasure rocketing up and down her spine.

It's _too much!_

"N-no _taaaail..._ " she half-moans, half-begs.

"Again," Jake grunts, still fucking her, _still_ rubbing her _damn_ tail, "Didn't agree to that."

Her orgasms rushes up to meet her, unable to withstand the bombardment Jake's determined to assault her with. She tenses, sucks in a sharp breath, and Jake pumps into her faster, reaches between her legs to find her clit and presses the flat of his fingers against it as he rubs them quickly back and forth just above where he's plunging into her.

"That's it," he encourages, voice rough and deep and sinfully carnal. "Good kitty." She can _hear_ him smiling; she's going to _kill_ him. "Let me see how good you feel."

Sherry doesn't stand a chance; her orgasm is the force of a tidal wave, rushing over her in an all-consuming and overwhelming surge of ecstasy, demanding and absolute. Jake's pace slows as she cums, the clamp of her pussy growing tighter as the convulsions rock her and her pussy flutters around him, making Jake's thrusts slicker.

Jake falls over her back, slides his hands over the back of hers to entwine their fingers, piston-pace slowing to deep stabs that make Sherry cry out, over-sensitive as her orgasm stretches, drawn-out by Jake's motions, until, _finally,_ he stills, dick twitching inside her as his own release comes over him.

Jake sags against her, breath hot at the nape of her neck, and they both just lay there for a minute, panting for air. 

"...Jesus," Sherry breathes, eyes still closed and face half-buried in the sheets. She can already feel the soreness from between her legs begin to throb and it makes her flush.

Jake manages to muster enough breath to laugh, albeit weakly. 

"I'll second that," he grunts. His chest at her back presses against her rhythmically as he slowly calms, and then he lifts himself up. He has this perverted fascination with watching himself slide out and it makes Sherry blush even further, knowing he's just _looking;_ no matter how many times they do this, she thinks this part might be the one that makes her feel the most self-conscious.

"A-ah," she twitches with a quiet gasp, eyes slipping shut, as Jake slowly eases himself out of her.

He doesn't let her dwell on the feeling. Post-sex, Jake's even more cuddly than usual, and she can hear the faint snap of him tying off the condom and discarding it, doomed to the same oblivion as her book somewhere over the edge of the bed.

He slides his arms around her as he drapes himself over her back and nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, the harsh, almost-angry bites from before now transformed into worshipful, loving kisses.

"Mm," he murmurs, quiet and satisfied, "Love ya, Sherry."

Sherry's lips curl into a happy, fond smile. She turns her head and their lips catch in a soft, lingering kiss. "I love you, too," she says quietly when they part. She shimmies beneath him, makes him give her enough space so she can flop on her back and wrap her arms around his shoulders. "But you have to stop doing this every time I try to get some work done."

Jake looks down at her innocently. "Were you working? I hadn't even noticed."

Sherry narrows her eyes at him. "Oh, you're hilarious."

Jake smirks. "Thank you."

At their side, his tail slips beneath hers where it lies limp against the sheets. The feeling of his warm tail twining around hers—it makes her jerk and her eyes grow wide, a scarlet blush surging back onto her face.

"No tail!"

Jake's smile grows lascivious. "Oh, _yes,_ tail."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Sherry, moments before getting railed:** Okay, but what if we _didn't_ , tho?  
>  **Jake:** _*insert Eric Andre meme*_ What in the goddamn hell are you talking about?
> 
> ALRIGHT BEASTIE I WROTE THE HORNT THING ARE YOU HAPPY?!?!? XDDDD
> 
> Story title is from [Rules.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVadfCxNnoY&list=RD8xXSjQ5NxAY&index=19&ab_channel=dojacatVEVO) 99.9% of that song choice is because this fic is about catboy/catgirl action and it would be the HEIGHT of folly to not name it after the patron saint of catpeople lol.
> 
> I was originally going to base the whole upcoming mission/mythology on a Real Thing™, but I lost all my notes that I'd taken on whatever South-American folklore I'd had and the thought of having to slog through finding it again was simply too much for my weak constitution. I defaulted to my favorite fictional religious figure: Etro, from the Final Fantasy series. I have SO MANY feelings about her, it's unreal. 
> 
> Thanks for reading this disaster lol! Any comments would be much appreciated!!! I vowed to stop apologizing for writing "bad" smut, but also like...know that I really want to apologize rn lolol. 〒▽〒


End file.
